Slwoly she rose up, glaring at the birdhouse, the sane birdhouse that Tom had built her ten years ago. How had time passed. The little bird sat there chriping happily, enjoying life for what it was. If only her life was like that of the bird.
Are you a cage or a refuge?i wonder everyday about the things you keep inside of you. where birds and dreams disappear and reappear some where else. birdhouse we decided that you should be the shelter for that which is free and naturally knows where to be.
There are many birdhouse at the Lake. They were put there to attract bird life back to the dried up lake which had once had an abundance of bird life. Now the boxes remain empty as the lake continues to be depleted. The isl
I like birdhouses, each day the birds come in to eat, they are so relaxed and happy, coming in with hunger in their stomachs, purching on the birdhouse, knowing they will be able to eat without fear
hot as hell it was but the girls in the birdhouse were well cooled with the ocean breeze softly stiring the frangapani trees that shaded there abode only one thing could kill the tranquilaty crows these pests came each day a tsunset
it is really a face made of copper never intended for the wrens who live there now popping in and out of the mouth. what a joy it would be to have this sort of face … one where only small feathered wander
I walked to the end of the garden and looked over the fence to see my neighbor next door in his glass birdhouse, feeding the yellow canaries and white doves with bags of seed. He coughed, then wiped his mouth with a white handkerchief. http://jamesbent.com/blog
I once was a kid, and I was in love with Enid Blyton’s stories. I read this story where they made birdhouses and I was so inspired I didn’t just rush outside to make one (which was a futile attempt anyway..).
where the birdies live but i cant see because its too tiny
do they have a log fire becaise its xmas? do thaey have a store of rowan berries -what is in a bird hoyse
The cat eyed the birdhouse, calculating how many steps horizontal, how many vertical, he would need and just what he might find when he reached his itching right paw inside the tiny hole at the top.
birdhouse? that’s a weird topic, because people never even talk about them. i’ve only seen like a few in my whole life. Maybe more, i don’t know. i don’t think birds actually like to live in them. they can’t be that conforable, even for a bird. whatever. hah, still going.
the birdhouse lay on the ground as marsha cried that the she had just had it with the squirrels. Damn things. I’m getting out the shotgun and shoot the little bastards. She ran to the house.
it was a birdhouse, rising against the sky.
ever since we got the cat there weren’t any birds, just the cold stiff bodies of sparrows littering the ground. the cat batted them around for a while, then left them there. we fed it too much anyway.
The robin chirped as it flew into it’s homely birdhouse. This was it’s home now, it had no where else to go, the workers had cut down all the trees, all that was left was this birdhouse in the front yard of old man Jenkins, that and its family. But the robin knew it would make it, if only off a few seeds a day.
by Chris Bustos - cbustos0310@gmail.com on 12.30.2009
the birdhouse is better than a cage; at least it’s a bit more like a home, even if it still attempts to impose a residence to a bird (although i still prefer them in the sky, personally).
birdhouse is a place where he birds live & where Tom always tries to find Jerry with his fellow bird but never knows how to climb it so it falls jusr right @ the top of his head or he just tries to bring it down with the bowling ball or break down it’s long pole
there’s a birdhouse. it’s just west of county road 62 and i pass it everyday on my way to work. it reminds me of a freer time. it takes me back to my child hood. my brother and i would spend hours on end exploring the woods, the fields… a freer time.
i saw a bidrhouse the other day with five baby dead birds in it. i laughed a little to myself and left. the next day, they were alive and well. they poked the crap outta my eyes.
i was in the birdhouse this afternoon and a woodpecker said “hello” and i said “hey” and he was all “you be eating up on my cheese woman” it was rather hilarious but i was going to the movies that day to see a jean luc godard film and i didn’t have time for his nonsense! so i flew out of the birdhouse and swooped past the trees, bought some german ice cream and it was a weird pickle flavour, i enjoyed it though and it got me excited about visiting germany and eating their pickles.
when i think about this word, it reminds me of parks. or my grandmas house. or birds…and bees! i hate bees. i’m pretty sure i’m allergic to bees..anywho, birdhouses are pretty rad. i means its a house…with a bird. sweet right?
When I think of this word, the image that is conjured in my mind is a cage in which a poor bird is trapped within, given no freedom to explore the outside world.
simple, housing, safe and secure.
this is the place where we all find a cure.
provisions and peace,
quite unabridged.
where we live is the birdhouse, alone on the ridge.
The father bird flutters into the birdhouse, carrying his catch of worms today for his wife, the mother bird, and their clutch of little baby birds. Mother bird looks lovingly at father bird as he passes her the food. The baby birds chatter happily, safe in their mother’s protective embrace, and filled with the food their father provided.
Slwoly she rose up, glaring at the birdhouse, the sane birdhouse that Tom had built her ten years ago. How had time passed. The little bird sat there chriping happily, enjoying life for what it was. If only her life was like that of the bird.
the birdhouse was empty, the birds long since dead or migrated or just moved.
he burned it along with the memory of his father building it.
he didn’t watch the flames consume it. instead, he slept.
Are you a cage or a refuge?i wonder everyday about the things you keep inside of you. where birds and dreams disappear and reappear some where else. birdhouse we decided that you should be the shelter for that which is free and naturally knows where to be.
There are many birdhouse at the Lake. They were put there to attract bird life back to the dried up lake which had once had an abundance of bird life. Now the boxes remain empty as the lake continues to be depleted. The isl
I like birdhouses, each day the birds come in to eat, they are so relaxed and happy, coming in with hunger in their stomachs, purching on the birdhouse, knowing they will be able to eat without fear
that birdhouse he built for her reminded her of the time they were together. it was uneven, yet its value is far greater. she smiled, “thank you…”
hot as hell it was but the girls in the birdhouse were well cooled with the ocean breeze softly stiring the frangapani trees that shaded there abode only one thing could kill the tranquilaty crows these pests came each day a tsunset
Years have battered
like crashing waves
on a eroded shoreline.
Splinters spiking,
moss greening
your fake tile roof –
birdhouse is a little house for birds.
i have few of them.
not birds, but houses.
hm
bird houses.
no, wait..
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA the time pressure is killing me!
lol ;)
cheers from Serbia
it is really a face made of copper never intended for the wrens who live there now popping in and out of the mouth. what a joy it would be to have this sort of face … one where only small feathered wander
I am fed up with chicken. I had to eat chicken all the time because they are very cheap. I hope to find something else to enjoy!
I walked to the end of the garden and looked over the fence to see my neighbor next door in his glass birdhouse, feeding the yellow canaries and white doves with bags of seed. He coughed, then wiped his mouth with a white handkerchief. http://jamesbent.com/blog
I once was a kid, and I was in love with Enid Blyton’s stories. I read this story where they made birdhouses and I was so inspired I didn’t just rush outside to make one (which was a futile attempt anyway..).
I made a promise to shelter birds in the future.
Future environmentalist?
Totally.
where the birdies live but i cant see because its too tiny
do they have a log fire becaise its xmas? do thaey have a store of rowan berries -what is in a bird hoyse
i hate birdpoo
“Will you build a birdhouse for me?” she asks her grandfather.
“I’m going to build one for the birds,” he said. “You already have a place to call your home.”
bird
The cat eyed the birdhouse, calculating how many steps horizontal, how many vertical, he would need and just what he might find when he reached his itching right paw inside the tiny hole at the top.
a house where it lives birds. They like their house very much and spend a lot of time in the yard smelling the flowers and drinking tea.
birdhouse? that’s a weird topic, because people never even talk about them. i’ve only seen like a few in my whole life. Maybe more, i don’t know. i don’t think birds actually like to live in them. they can’t be that conforable, even for a bird. whatever. hah, still going.
the birdhouse lay on the ground as marsha cried that the she had just had it with the squirrels. Damn things. I’m getting out the shotgun and shoot the little bastards. She ran to the house.
ay yok yazamıcam b
metal or wood. metallic or dull. man made or natural. all combined together and you get tony hawk’s 900.
i see a birdhouse hanging from a tree in the backyard of my aunt’s house. the wind blows and it sways slowly. there are no birds in this birdhouse.
birdie
you can build birdhouses, colorful, wood,
it was a birdhouse, rising against the sky.
ever since we got the cat there weren’t any birds, just the cold stiff bodies of sparrows littering the ground. the cat batted them around for a while, then left them there. we fed it too much anyway.
The robin chirped as it flew into it’s homely birdhouse. This was it’s home now, it had no where else to go, the workers had cut down all the trees, all that was left was this birdhouse in the front yard of old man Jenkins, that and its family. But the robin knew it would make it, if only off a few seeds a day.
the birdhouse is better than a cage; at least it’s a bit more like a home, even if it still attempts to impose a residence to a bird (although i still prefer them in the sky, personally).
funny that this word came up. my boyfriend calls me babybird. i’m currently at home so i guess i’m at the birdhouse.
birdhouse is a place where he birds live & where Tom always tries to find Jerry with his fellow bird but never knows how to climb it so it falls jusr right @ the top of his head or he just tries to bring it down with the bowling ball or break down it’s long pole
there’s a birdhouse. it’s just west of county road 62 and i pass it everyday on my way to work. it reminds me of a freer time. it takes me back to my child hood. my brother and i would spend hours on end exploring the woods, the fields… a freer time.
i saw a bidrhouse the other day with five baby dead birds in it. i laughed a little to myself and left. the next day, they were alive and well. they poked the crap outta my eyes.
i was in the birdhouse this afternoon and a woodpecker said “hello” and i said “hey” and he was all “you be eating up on my cheese woman” it was rather hilarious but i was going to the movies that day to see a jean luc godard film and i didn’t have time for his nonsense! so i flew out of the birdhouse and swooped past the trees, bought some german ice cream and it was a weird pickle flavour, i enjoyed it though and it got me excited about visiting germany and eating their pickles.
when i think about this word, it reminds me of parks. or my grandmas house. or birds…and bees! i hate bees. i’m pretty sure i’m allergic to bees..anywho, birdhouses are pretty rad. i means its a house…with a bird. sweet right?
When I think of this word, the image that is conjured in my mind is a cage in which a poor bird is trapped within, given no freedom to explore the outside world.
simple, housing, safe and secure.
this is the place where we all find a cure.
provisions and peace,
quite unabridged.
where we live is the birdhouse, alone on the ridge.
The father bird flutters into the birdhouse, carrying his catch of worms today for his wife, the mother bird, and their clutch of little baby birds. Mother bird looks lovingly at father bird as he passes her the food. The baby birds chatter happily, safe in their mother’s protective embrace, and filled with the food their father provided.
a place where a bird lives and stays warms and creates more birdies that live in more houses that we’re suppossed to build for them
The birds sat outside the door to the birdhouse munching on their worms from the early morning catch.